"Bitter…"

Day: 324, 1:06 a.m.

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

Task Force 141

Unknown

The only thing I have left of my Wings is a pair of bloodstained dog tags and a cheap plastic ring that was acquired from a shitty pizza hut. Both are useless to me after obtaining them. One is worn around your neck to identify your body, and the other is made of a cheap plastic, that if pinched in the right spot, would break without much effort. They are both on chains that hang around my neck, weighing me down with such a heavy burden. The blood on the tags makes the metallic silver color look like a tangy red. The color makes me sick when I look at it, so I choose to tuck it under my shirt with my own dog tags. The plastic ring has seen better days as it's chipped shiny gray paint reveals the matte, dull color underneath it. It too is hard to look at, so I also tuck it in my shirt, but the ghost still haunts me.

Everyone always spits the same thing. It's either: "It will get better Roach. You just need time." or "Everything happens for a reason, Roach." Stupid half ass responses like that piss me off, and yet I know that if the roles were reversed I'd say the same generic line. Why do we do it to one another? We have to know that those words aren't comforting in the slightest. All they do is make us question everything, and irritate us further about the things we can't change. I can't even bring myself to respond to people when they say it anymore. I just walk away as if they'd never even spoken in the first place.

My pain… it is almost unbearable, and I've gotten to the point where I don't think anyone will fully understand it. He is gone, and I am left here standing in the rain on one of balconies of our once shared HQ. It's funny how just a six months ago Wings and I were sitting next to one another laughing while he smoked a cigarette. I can remember how the smoke poured off of his lips like water, and how the corner of his lips peeked up as I made another stupid joke about his accent. My skin still tingles where his hand would ruffle my hair, or my lips when he would get brave enough to steal a quick kiss when no one was watching.

It was the little things about him that I missed. How messy his hair always was, and how his eyes sparkled whenever he was excited. How he had- what I could proudly say- was the cutest laugh lines I'd ever seen. The way he curled himself in some kind of weird cocoon, letting his feet stick out at the bottom. I would always wake up freezing and having to grab my blanket off the bed. The next day though he'd get all fussy about how we didn't share a blanket, and so the next night the cycle would repeat. It was enduring, and annoying. But I would do it over and over again just to see him smile. It's strange that I'll never see the curve of his lips again. I'd never see him bite his lip in confusion, or in irritation. He was just gone.

I pulled a small, slightly squished carton of cigarette's out of my pocket and retrieving a tobacco filled stick from its confines, placing it between my lips. I fished around for a lighter but came up empty-handed. I had been in such a hurry earlier that I'd left the lighter on the bedside table. I mentally cursed when I heard the sliding glass doors open with a swish.

My heart sped up and I turned around quickly to examine the mysterious new figure. My heart gave a little jolt as Zach Nevis stood before me, a worried expression planted firmly on his face. His blonde hair was disheveled and his blue eyes were bright as he stared me down. He looked like Wings. The longer I looked at him, the more my heart ached.

I backed away slowly until my back hit the balcony railing. I turned my face away from his letting the cigarette fall from my lips. "Zach..."

"I finally found you!" He said over the roar of the rain, and I was slightly impressed as he was a normally soft-spoken guy. "We've been looking for you everywhere! How could you just run out on Dr. Reid like that?"

I felt a tear roll down my face. It was uncomfortably warm compared to the cold raindrops that littered my face. I wiped it quickly thinking Zach might see. I opened my mouth to respond but only small sounds escaped.

Zach came forward slowly and was clearly unhappy about getting soaked. "Roach come on. Let's go in." He said softly as he reached a hand out to me.

Dr. Jacquelyn Reid was your typical doctor. Funny, charming with a good head on her shoulders, she was the perfect psychiatrist for the 141. Roach knew she wanted to help, that she held his best interest, but he just couldn't bring himself to share it with her. How could she possibly understand what he felt?

I stared at his hand for a long moment before finally, my words came to me. "I don't want to go back to her," I whispered out softly, and I hated how desperate I sounded, but I was tired of talking to her. I was tired of trying to make her understand.

Zach gave me a pleasant smile, and I glanced away from him, training my eyes on the concrete beneath my feet. "Okay. We won't go back to her. Let's go inside. I know just where to take you." He smiled extending his hand to my view.

I took it tentatively, wondering if Archer would approve, but quickly banished the thought as Zach drug me inside the cold building. I immediately began to regret standing in the rain. The cold air collided with my body in a horrible union and I gave a shiver at it.

Zach glanced back at me and gave me a knowing look. "I can swing you by your room first to get something new to wear."

He was trying to be nice, but I couldn't find it in myself to meet his gaze. His innocent eyes staring back at me would only make me think of him, and that was something I could do just fine on my own. I didn't need a living reminder.

"No. Let's just go" I mumbled out between chattering teeth as I pulled my wrist from him.

He didn't seem to bother by it as he turned around and began leading me away from the rain. I was on watch. Thanks to Ms. Jacquelyn Reid, I had been nearly kicked out of the military, but luckily for me, I had a guarding angel looking out for me, or maybe somebody higher up, but never the less I got off on what some would say as luck. To me it was torture. I was consistently being escorted everywhere, and I barely got a moment of peace. I had to spend my free days with either Archer, MacTavish, or Ghost.

MacTavish wasn't so bad as for the most part we sat about as he caught up on paperwork. We would occasionally talk about little things like the weather or training, but it never went any further than that. If you would have asked me six months ago what I thought about MacTavish I would have gotten all bothered and embarrassed because I had a small crush on him. However, it was solely based on his looks and had little to do with his actual personality, though he wasn't lacking in that department either. Being kind, and smart, it was no wonder the great Dr. Reid had swept him off his feet.

Ghost wasn't so bad either as he spent most of his days off doing one of three things; mercilessly pranking the new recruits, searching and sending MacTavish weird porn videos he found online or reading. On the days he would find a book more interesting then torturing other people, he would read to me. It was always some huge book that with my ADHD, would take me years to finished, but somehow him reading was calming. There were some days, some very rare days, that Ghost would be huddled up on his desk, drawing some pictures he'd never let me see.

The worst days were spent with Archer. Archer wasn't a bad person by any means. In fact, he was one of the kindest on the Force, which made sense when you paired him up with Zach, who was the sweetest one. Archer was quiet, and I looked up to him in a plethora of ways, ranging from father figure to mentor. What made spending days with Archer so horrible was the new recruit, Joseph Allen, and his all to a familiar voice, or playing games with Zach and his all to a familiar face. Those day's I spent in more pain then anyone could imagine. On those days, I found myself curled up in Ghost's room in the middle of the night, begging and pleading him to read me to sleep.

When we approached our a destination, I felt a small smile tug on my lips. I could tell where we were at by the look of the caution tape stapled to the door. Ghost always did have a strange sense of humor. Leave it to Ghost to destroy Government property, and not give a single fuck while he was doing it.

Zach knocked on the door quickly and shot me a small smile as we waited, making me glance away from him. After a moment, Zach knocked again, beginning to look unsure of himself. "He said he'd be here… Maybe he's asleep. Captain MacTavish said he had been working all night..." He mumbled more to himself than to me.

I knew better than that as Ghost hardly ever slept. That man was scary for a reason, running mostly off two hours at a time. Ghost was the epitome of an insomniac, catching bits and pieces of sleep rather than a full eight hours. I had tried on many occasion to try and get him to sleep, but he would restlessly flip around until he'd fumble out of bed, bitching about wasting his time. Ghost was an enigma after all.

I pulled back a fist and punched the door causing it to dent slightly. If Ghost could damage it, why couldn't I? "Ghost! Open the door, asshole!" I yelled causing it to echo down the empty hallway of our new shiny base.

There was some rustling of papers, and the slamming of a drawer before the door swung open rather excitedly. Ghost appeared with a tape measure in his hand, measuring the dent with a sort of childlike wonder. I could see the hint of a smile as his mask crinkled up, and I found myself nursing my own smile behind my hand.

"That's a nice one, Roach. Not your best, but it is definitely nice. Have you been- Oh hi Zach." Ghost waved, not bothering to glance over at the man as he took his measurements with a sort of pride.

Zach eyed him curiously for a second before turning his eyes to me, revealing his worry. I looked away, not wanting to have to explain my strange relationship with the enigma that was Ghost.

"Hi. I found him, sir." Zach replied with a small wave of his own. "He was taking a shower out in the rain, and didn't want to go back to therapy."

Ghost glanced over me, slowly raking his eyes over me, he quickly was able to take into fact that my clothes were soaked, my hair was disheveled, and I was shivering out in the hallway. He probably noticed the goosebumps on my arms, as he stared extra long at them before tearing his gaze back to Zach. "I see that. Well, you can go! Tell Archer I'll take the Bug today." He chirped, grabbing my arm and pulling me into his room, slamming the door on a rather confused Zach.

He waited a moment, waiting for Zach to stomp away in a huff before turning to me. "Strip." He smiled at me as he went to his closet ducking his head in to find a clean shirt.

I pulled my wet shirt off, tossing it on to his computer desk chair. I could already hear Ghost complain in my head, which only made me smile. I was about to strip out of my pants when it occurred to me that I wasn't exactly wearing underwear. I felt my face heat with embarrassment, wondering if I should speak up about it or not. Ghost wasn't normally weird about stuff like that. I could easily think for five different times in the last week that I'd seen him naked, two with his mask, the rest without.

Looking for a distraction, I glanced over to the wall he'd designated his art wall. I saw new drawings, and sketches taped to the wall, and some of them were old thing's he'd drawn in high school, and in his early military days. He was self-taught, claiming it was his little safe haven back when he lived with his father. He started out drawling, or as he so elegantly put it; doodling, when he was in middle school. From there he taught himself, stating to me, and his sister on many occasions that art teachers were ignorant. I watched him draw a portrait of Eve once. It was amazing to watch him shade her to life on a piece of paper, coloring nothing but her green eyes. He kept it in his sketch pad, which was usually tucked away between his mattresses.

I was always slightly jealous of Ghost's ability to draw. I'd never had many talents unless you count all the times I narrowly avoided getting my ass kicked. It was clear to me by my freshman year of high school that my talents were limited. While I had Ghost convinced to go to an art school, I knew my destiny would lead me to the military. Much to my surprise, Ghost followed right after me, leaving college behind. He never told me why he'd abandoned the idea. Even when I'd asked he always played it off like he wasn't that good, but I'd seen some of his work. It was beautiful.

I pulled my eyes away from the wall of art and focused on the rest of the room. It was like the rest of the barracks. A bunk bed, covered in issued white sheets, and a scratchy gray blanket was pressed up against the far left wall. Beside it sat a small shelf, that was cluttered with books, and drawings. I noticed a small pill bottle under the mess but decided against asking about it as Ghost was a very private person. A small wooden desk was pressed into the corner on the right side, next to the wall filled with Ghost's 'doodles'. The room was nice and had a new room sort of smell, but Ghost was stubborn, not wanting to leave his old room. As a result, it had taken MacTavish four hours to convince Ghost to stay one night, it took him four days to convince him to move in.

Ghost emerged from the closet with a bundle of clothes and a large smile. "Okay, Bug. You get to choose between black sweatpants or the standard issued sweatpants. I also have standard issued white, compared to this kick ass skull shirt that Eve bought for me." He cheered, tossing the clothes onto his bed, ruffling the sheets.

Ghost scanned his eyes over me for a second, seeming to linger longer than normal, before clearing his throat and moving to his computer desk. He grumbled for a split second about the wet shirt, but he threw it on the floor, taking his spot in the slightly soggy chair to began work on another drawing.

I watched the back of his head for a second with nervous eyes, and I wondered what he was thinking. Did he notice my lack of undergarments? I tried my best to shrug it off before quickly stripping out of my clothes and pulling on the gray sweatpants with his self-proclaimed kick ass skull t-shirt. I kicked the wet clothes to the corner and flopped down on the bed with a sigh.

Neither of us said anything for a long time, letting the silence sink in around us. He scribbled away on his paper, and I looked up at the bottom of the top bunk. This was okay, this was nice. I could understand this. Ghost wasn't one for talking about his feelings, and he never forced me to talk about mine. It was like a perfect limbo we had between us. I never felt pressured, or forced to do anything I didn't want to do.

And then, I ruined it. Our perfect limbo.

"Ghost..." I felt the words leave my lips before I could take them back, or even process thought. "I miss him."

I heard his pen drop to the floor, his chair swiveling around, and then I felt his startled gaze on me. I didn't have to look at him to know what he was doing, and it both surprised and irked me.

He remained quiet for a moment as if to let me finish some unsaid statement. He cleared his throat, taking his sunglasses off, and letting them rest in his lap. "You miss Ryan." He spoke so bluntly, that I involuntarily flinched. He quickly rephrased. "It's normal to miss him, you know."

I scoffed, this time turning to meet his unsettling green eyes as I lifted up on my elbows. "I'm aware of that. I just… I don't know." I whispered, flopping back down on the bed, turning to face the top bunk again.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ghost's hand twitch with some unconscious need before quickly settling at his side again. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to muster up some sort of response. "Do you-" He began but shook his head quickly as if clearing away some unwanted thought. "Would you… want to talk about it…? With me?"

His voice was quiet, and I was beginning to think I broke him. I turned to face him again, feeling my face heat up under his emerald stare. "I mean… Is that okay?"

Ghost shifted again, his emerald eyes turning away from me, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say he was nervous. But Ghost didn't get nervous. He had two major emotions, a goofy, nonchalant attitude, and then there was his fits of pure rage, which he reserved for terrorists, and the occasional jackass.

I was beginning to feel a strange form of regret, and he must have sensed my sudden mood shift because he turned to me slowly as if gathering some kind of unknown courage. I watched his mouth move beneath his mask, green eyes looking slightly unnerved. "Gary, if it makes you happy again, I'll listen to you talk for days." He spoke the words so softly, that I wondered if I was hearing things.

I nodded anyway and laid my head back on my bed as he rolled himself, and his chair over to sit next to me. I remained quiet for a moment, suddenly losing my nerve with him so close. "I… I don't know where to start."

Ghost pondered that for a moment, staring at the door as if trying to burn holes in it. "Start where ever you want, Bug. Take your time. I'll listen to whatever you want me too."

I gave a nod of my head and found myself closing my eyes in thought. Every moment, every laugh, ever sound, touch or bittersweet emotion came rushing through me all at once. It was like re-watching my entire life in a fast-forward motion. It sped by like mere seconds, but I could remember the days spent in pain. In fear. I could remember them all, and they weren't mere seconds, but hours, days, years.

I opened my eyes, feeling my brain come to a sudden pause as I looked up at the top bunk again. "It started when a Roach had his Wings."